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How are you doing? Part II

I get asked this question a lot and yesterday I realized
I am starting to sound sarcastic when I answer:

We are fine, I
guess. We aren’t sure how we are supposed to be. This is new to us.

While I answer the question, a myriad of thoughts jumble
in my mind:

My heart aches. My arms ache. How do YOU think
I am? Am I doing this grief thing, this mourning thing all wrong? Did you ask
my husband how HE is doing? He often only gets asked how his wife and daughter
are doing. He’s grieving too. Why is he forgotten in all of this? How am I
doing? I want Mikail back. I want to feel like we used to feel. I want to hold
him. I want to hear him. I want to play games with him and read with him. I want to feel secure and void of the fear I
feel when Olivia sleeps in a bit longer than her usual 6:50 a.m. and I am too
paralyzed with fear to go and check on her.I want to feel healthy. I don’t really care who has been touched or
changed because of our loss. I just want Mikail back. I just want Mikail back.

It’s exhausting, really. I need to find a better way to
deal with this question, I suppose. It’s going to come up over and over again.
It’s inevitable. Perhaps it is part of this journey of healing. I don’t know.

Recently I got up the courage to take the empty bins and
baskets that Mikail’s school so lovingly filled with food, gifts, cards and
letter, back to the school. I told myself I just had to walk through the doors
and drop them off at the office and leave. God had a different plan. I was met
by the principal who is filled with so much compassion and understanding. We
talked for a bit and then she suggested we visit Mikail’s classroom.

NO! I thought. I can’t do this. I can’t walk that hall and
see a classroom of 4 and 5 year olds that spent 7 hours a day with him.

But I did. We walked down the hallway and at the end I
could see the row of jackets and backpacks, Mikail’s hook empty, but his
picture still designating him a spot in his class. There were his indoor
running shoes. The black and lime green ones that lit up with each step he
took. He loved those shoes. The lump in my chest started to move up to my
throat. The tears just one thought away.

We turned to go into his classroom and were met by the
kids flocking to the door wanting to say hi. They all seemed to want to hug
Olivia ~ perhaps have any close connection they could to their friend, gone so
quickly? I don’t know. I tried to make small talk but had this urge to run. The
tears were just too close. Mikail wasn’t there, where he was supposed to be,
exploring and learning with all the other 4 and 5 year old friends of his. On
our way out, I took his running shoes and a few other of his belongings that
were in his cubby.

We made it back to the car and as I buckled Olivia into
her seat, the sobs took over. I couldn’t keep them in anymore. The pain of it
all was just too much. I knew in my mind that it was good that we came and it
was good that we said hello to his classmates and teachers. I needed to do
that, but it was hard. Really hard.

And after a day like that, I am exhausted...even after a
night of (pretty good) sleep. I can’t stop the tears and couldn’t get myself
composed enough to make it to Ladies Morning Coffee this morning. Somehow
putting on make-up and a smile seemed like the most difficult task ever. And to
concentrate on Paul’s Missionary Journey? Wishful thinking.

Then I was reminded that the past two days are days of
mourning. Did you know there is a difference between grieving and mourning?
Grief is the internal thoughts and feelings we have when someone we love dies.
Mourning is the outward expression of grief.Today I am in mourning and it gives me some comfort to know that in
order to heal, we cannot just grieve, we must also mourn.

So, there you have it. That’s how I am doing today.
Tomorrow may be different. I hope it will be.

Sunny shares your messages. I pray when I read and random other times in the day when God places you on my mind. I pray for moments of clarity and peace and that when my heart aches it somehow eases the pain for you and your family. We've never met, but that doesn't matter. Thank you for sharing your days. I hope the writing helps. You write beautifully. Love from Atlanta! -Tennille

Thanks Tennille. Your prayers are much appreciated. I love how you wrote about your heart aching, easing our pain. Jason and I were recently talking about how it helps so much to know when people are praying just like it helps when those who knew Mikail share their memories of him with us. Both are so healing. Thanks for carrying us in prayer.